


The Prophet

by MrProphet



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Heroes (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 16:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10701072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet





	The Prophet

Moving warily, Peter Petrelli moved across the town square and slipped into the abandoned townhouse. This quiet, New England town was replete with such empty buildings; understandably, given that the local amenities seemed to be stuck in the 1950s. It was hardly the cosiest of hiding places, but it was undeniably off the grid.

Inside the block, his fellow refugees sheltered. “We should probably move on soon,” he said. “I don’t think the locals are exactly up to date on current events, but they don’t get many visitors either. Hard as I try, I stick out like a sore thumb.”

“It’s a shame you can’t turn invisible any more,” Mohinder noted.

“Yeah; well, one of these days I’ll learn to avoid hugging members of my family. It never seems to end well.”

“Anyway; we can’t leave yet. Matt’s in prophecy mode. He’s doing mural.” Mohinder indicated the door to the next room and led the way through.

Hiro and Ando stood watching as Matt Parkman splashed paint across the walls. He had managed to find only two colours of paint, black and green, and the resulting image was a rather ghastly mess of lurid, eldritch shadows.

In the image, a dark shape rose out of a storm-tossed seascape. Its form was vague and amorphous, but it was possible to make out a bulbous head, reaching arms, spreading wings, and a mass of foul tentacles. The shadowy forms of shattered ships floated all about this figure.

Just looking at the image made Peter’s blood run cold.

Matt set down his brush and turned to face the others, his eyes still covered by the milky sheen of prophecy. What he did next was something he had never done in the grip of a trance before. He spoke.

“Iä, iä! Cthulhu fhtagn! Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn!” he intoned.

“What does that mean?” Hiro asked.

“I don’t know,” Ando admitted, “but it sounds bad.”


End file.
